


today's another day to find you

by joanwatsvn



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Character Death, it's basically a romcom w/ sad backstories set to student life, there's some nina/matthias but then ninej happens n they're a Gift
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 16:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11832864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joanwatsvn/pseuds/joanwatsvn
Summary: An impossible amount of time later, the woman resurfaces.  Beaming, she holds out two room keys. "Here you go.  You boys are together, room three-oh-eight, isn't that nice?"And that,thatis the moment Wylan's life goes up in smoke.  He could have handled anything the year, the next three years, would throw at him, if only fate or God or someone hadn't decided he'd done something in his life so bad that he deserved Kuwei Yul-Bo as a roommate.  But not currently having any idea of what the next three years will throw at him, all Wylan feels is a sense of relief.This could have been worse."Thanks," he says.  It's pretty lame as far as reactions to the end of life as you know it go, but cut him some slack.  He didn't know.





	today's another day to find you

_OCTOBER 2016_

 

 If you’d asked Wylan a year ago if real life had blooper-reel moments, he’d have said no.  In keeping with the tradition of an ever-expanding worldview, college is rapidly changing all of that.  Where do you want to start?  The day twenty-odd music theory students saw Wylan get into a car that no student should be able to afford to even  _look_ at and be driven away so his father could make pointed comments about how little Wylan’s going to achieve in life over salad at a restaurant nobody could afford to eat at without a six-figure salary?  

How about watching Kuwei ask Jesper, for the third time, to explain some concept from his International Relations lecture - a class that Kuwei took and passed last year and  _still_ has the flashcards for behind his desk somewhere - and almost falling out of his seat with how close he was leaning?

The time he made the awful mistake of bringing Jesper back to his room one night only to have Kuwei look up from his phone to say “Oh, hello again”, because why,  _why God why_ , did it have to be  _Wylan’s_ boyfriend that Kuwei apparently hooked up with at some party last year?  (Not, you understand, that Wylan cares about that.  It’s not as if he  _knew_  Jesper then.  None of his business whatsoever.)

 On which note: don't ask him.

 

-

 

_SEPTEMBER 2015_

 

Wylan Van Eck can pinpoint the  _exact_ moment his life went from tentatively promising to dead, buried, and burning in hell.  For some people, it just happens.  Gradually, practically imperceptibly, until one day they wake up and find that, suddenly and quite without their consent, everything is shit.  Well, not for Wylan.  He knows exactly when it happened, and how, and  _who._ He just hadn't realised at first; too buoyed-up with giddy, dizzying freedom, the sight of his father's fourth-best car disappearing round the bend for the final time until the end of semester.    

"Don't disgrace yourself.  I'll have someone collect you at Christmas."  

 Wylan's long stopped kidding himself about any real sentiment from his father.  With three whole months stretching out before winter break, all he can think is  _finally_.  

That said, as he picks up his bags and takes a hesitant step forwards, it's fucking  _terrifying._   The campus is huge - at least, bigger than anywhere Wylan's ever been left alone with two suitcases and not even a map to point the way, and brimming over with people.  A sign on the grass tells him to look for the friendly student helpers in blue shirts, but the grass is so full of other people, sky already starting to blur with rain, that he gives up that pursuit quickly.  All the buildings look the same, tall and imposing, with banners saying useless things like  _WELCOME, STUDENTS_ that do nothing to make anyone feel particularly welcome.  Somebody walks by with a map; a sign points in no clear direction that Wylan can see.  

“Excuse me,” he tries at a passing person. “Do you know where--”

Someone knocks into him hard, and a suitcase goes flying across the ground.   _Watch it!_ a different person shouts from who-knows-where, and Wylan gathers up his things as quickly as possible and, well, he doesn't  _run_ but he certainly speed-walks.  He's just made it round the side of a building -- damp, grey, isolated -- and started to wonder if he's going to have to spend his entire university career camped out underneath some bushes, when there's a tap on his shoulder that sends him three feet into the air.

"Hello?"

When Wylan turns around, he comes face to face with a boy who looks almost younger than he is, and about as lost. "I'm looking for--" Here, he stops to consult a map, nearly dissolving in the steady drizzle. "Do you know... Where are the dorms?"

The boy’s looking at him with an expression that’s somewhere between expectant and desperate, struggling between the assurance that  _someone_ has to know where they’re going and the hope of finding someone less lost than he is.  To that, Wylan’s tempted to point out which one of them’s holding the map.

It's a moment before Wylan remembers how to speak. "No.  But, uh, I'm looking too."

A pause, considering.  "Then I'm staying with you," the boy decides, and holds out a hand. "Kuwei."

"Wylan," says Wylan, and they shake hands. 

(Kuwei is seventeen and looks younger.  Maybe it’s because his hair (long, dark) is tied back, away from his face, only loose tendrils of a fringe falling over his forehead.  Or it could be that he’s even smaller than Wylan is, undoubtedly not helped by the weight of the backpack he’s struggling under.  Then again, Wylan knows how  _he_ looks to everyone else here: his clothes, the plainest he could get away with, are still too clean and well-fitted; red-gold curls and wide eyes only emphasising a look that he’s sure says  _I have no idea what I’m doing here._

In fairness, he doesn’t.)

They might as well stick together, lest the crowd swallow them both alive.  With two of them, things  _do_ become easier.  They're still hopelessly lost, but after an hour or so of wandering around and bickering over the smudged remains of what was once Kuwei's campus map, they find themselves standing in front of a desk while an old woman slowly flips through a sheaf of files.  

"W.... w...."

"I believe it's V," Wylan mutters, unsure if the woman can hear him. "For Van Eck."  _Don’t comment, don’t comment, don’t comment._ He can just imagine the sort of snide remarks he’ll get once people put Van Eck and  _Wylan_ together.  Thankfully, the woman’s too absorbed in her list to notice, and Kuwei--

Kuwei sighs. "How long do you think before she makes it to Y?"

Wylan can  _feel_ the tension drain from him like cold water. "Maybe by graduation."

An impossible amount of time later, the woman resurfaces.  Beaming, she holds out two room keys. "Here you go.  You boys are together, room three-oh-eight, isn't that nice?"

And that,  _that_ is the moment Wylan's life goes up in smoke.  He could have handled anything the year, the next three years, would throw at him, if only fate or God or someone hadn't decided he'd done something in his life so bad that he deserved Kuwei Yul-Bo as a roommate.  But not currently having any idea of what the next three years will throw at him, all Wylan feels is a sense of relief.

This could have been worse.

"Thanks," he says.  It's pretty lame as far as reactions to the end of life as you know it go, but cut him some slack.  He didn't know.

 

-

 

_OCTOBER 2016_  

 

**wylan van eck:** you took my folder by mistake and it has an assignment that’s due today, i really need it back.

**wylan van eck:** where are you?i need this back, can you meet me?

**wylan van eck:** please, my class is in ten minutes

 

_** read 10.56am ** _

 

-

 

_SEPTEMBER 2015_

 

There's no working lift, so he and Kuwei end up dragging their bags up several flights of stairs.  For reasons neither of them asks about, they've both packed light.  It only takes one trip.  Room three-oh-eight is in the middle of a dimly-lit hall, rain lashing at the windows but otherwise nothing to complain about.  

There's two beds - Kuwei immediately throws his stuff on the top one, so Wylan takes the desk by the window.  It has the potential to be nice, even cosy, if either of them has enough to decorate with.  Kuwei has a pile of battered notebooks that have definitely seen better days, a tin full of loose pencils, and a faded afghan flung across his bed.  Wylan sets up his desk with headphones and an iPad, wondering if it's worth making a show of buying textbooks he's not going to use just to help it look less empty.  

At least the view is good - grass and trees stretch out below, and a wide pavement scattered with leaves, tall university buildings rising.  His view.  From his room.  Wylan likes thinking that.   _Their_ room, technically, but the point being,  _not-his-father's._ Even if it is being paid for with his money.  It's the most space Wylan's had to call his own in seventeen years.

"This is pathetic," Kuwei says, and hops down from where he's perched on the side of the bed. "Let's go explore."

Wylan follows him because there's nothing better to do. They end up in the shared kitchen at the end of the hall, sipping too-hot tea made with someone's teabags Kuwei found in the cupboard and took before Wylan could think to say  _those aren't ours._ "The perks of communal living, hey?" Kuwei had said, in a way that makes Wylan think he's speaking from experience, for no reason he can name.  

The silence is a little awkward; most of Wylan's attempts to break it ("Good thing we're not still outside, huh?") go nowhere.  But for the first hour or so as roommates, it isn't going badly.  This is, Wylan decides, largely because Kuwei doesn't seem to give a shit about Wylan's surname, although he heard him give it to the woman at reception.  Whether he doesn't  _know_ the name Van Eck or just doesn't care is debatable, but it makes no difference to Wylan.  He's just glad to be spared the furtive glances, the whispered  _one of those Van Ecks,_ the not-so-subtle prying for information.  

He’s broken out of his thoughts by the sound of cupboard doors opening and shutting.  Kuwei holds out a tin. "Want a biscuit?"

This time, Wylan does say "Those don't belong to you," and Kuwei only shrugs.

"No name on them."

Well, it's not like Wylan would know if there was.  He lets Kuwei take three biscuits before muttering some excuse about needing to get back and unpack.  He half-expects to be apprehended at the door by someone bigger than he is, claiming ownership of the biscuits and possibly a fight to the death, but he makes it back to the room without seeing a soul.

And, yeah, it  _is_ kind of pathetic at the moment, turned greyer from the weather and still dismally empty, but Wylan promises himself it's not going to be permanent.  It's  _his_ space (their space, not-his-father's space) and it's not an opportunity Wylan plans to let go of.  Maybe there's somewhere on campus selling-- whatever it is people are supposed to turn up with that makes their rooms into places they want to live in?  Personal artefacts, things with memories, things from  _home._ No wonder Wylan's a little lacking in that department.  He wonders what Kuwei's excuse is, but doesn't ask.  Kuwei hasn't asked  _him_ yet, and really, that's a fairly promising arrangement.  

His suitcase, open, lies on the floor, but Wylan makes no move to unpack it.  In fact, he doesn't do anything more than flop down on his bed -- unmade, he'll do that later -- and close his eyes.

 

-

 

_OCTOBER 2016_

 

_Google search:_ siri, what time does student services close at university of amsterdam

_Google search:_ what time does amsterdam university student services open

_Google search:_ can i change accommodation midway through semester 

_Google search_ ** _[deleted]_** _:_ how to kill someone and make it look like an accident

 

-

 

_SEPTEMBER 2015_

 

The next thing Wylan knows, he’s blinking up at a flaking ceiling and the room is full of evening shadows, long and looming, the sky outside dim and lovely.  The rain's stopped, the evening light making the room look slightly less than real, and he wonders if he’s still dreaming.Across the room, Kuwei’s sitting at a desk, feet tucked under him, idly playing with a loose thread on his sleeve.He looks completely lost in thought and Wylan wonders if he ought to say something when Kuwei looks up and sees  _him._

“Hello.”

Exploring campus.  Falling asleep on an unmade bed.  He didn’t think he was that tired, but it must have been hours.  “Hey.” 

Scratch that, he knows it’s been hours.He hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast and he’s  _starving._ Wylan at least didn’t bring any food with him, and it’s an unsurprising but nonetheless demoralising realisation that he has no idea what to do with it if he did.There might still be shops open, but… Well, he’s never  _done_ his own grocery shopping, never tried to cook, and 8pm on a Saturday really doesn’t seem like the time to start. 

There’s always takeout.  

He glances over at Kuwei again.Kuwei’s on his phone, apparently absorbed in whatever he’s doing, but maybe he can feel Wylan looking at him because after a second he looks up again.Catches his gaze, and holds it; not exactly  _waiting_ , but… Expectant.Wylan  _was_ the one looking, and there’s no crime in that but he feels the back of his neck heat up anyway. _God._

There is one other option.

_Screw it,_  Wylan thinks.

"Do you want to go get some dinner?' The words come out in a rush, stumbled-over, but he makes himself look at Kuwei as he speaks. "I think there's somewhere nearby doing pizza?”

It would have been  _great_  if he could have got that out in one coherent piece, but…

Dimly, Wylan registers that this is the first time he's seen Kuwei properly smile since they met.  Mostly, he's just relieved - that he’s getting food, that his fledgling social life isn’t totally crashing and burning, that maybe he even has a friend here. 

Kuwei nods. “Sure.” 

Drifting to sleep two hours later (bed still unmade, he’ll figure that out tomorrow), the last clear thought Wylan has is that it can only be uphill from now on.

 

-

 

_OCTOBER 2016_

 

**kuwei:** hello are you in?

**wylan van eck:** i’ve been texting you all day.    ** _[draft; unsent.]_**

**wylan van eck:** i might have failed this assignment.  ** _[draft; unsent.]_**

**wylan van eck:** why?

**kuwei:** i left my key in the room and it’s raining, let me in please thanks~

 

_**read 17.09pm** _

 

-

 

( **kuwei:** ok, i deserved that.  

**kuwei:** but seriously, i didn't bring an umbrella, please have mercy)

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. yes, the title is from take on me. after all that 80s music has done to get me through writing this, it's only fair.  
> 2\. i'd like to thank everyone, friends and strangers both, who supported this fic, asked me questions about it, helped me work out plot points, and were generally lovely when i was despairing and ready to give up. y'all are angels and i couldn't have done it without you  
> 3\. an especially big shout-out goes to [abi](www.pippims.tumblr.com) and to [hazel](www.beanmoreau.tumblr.com), without whom this would never have happened - i highly recommend you check their writing out, too!


End file.
